


permissions

by Jelly



Series: fics fighting fires [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, and they say chivalry is dead, pffft not to callum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: He wants to do this right.Or: the five Yes's Callum feels he needs to get before he can ask for the one Yes that actually matters. (In which Callum asks for permission for Rayla's hand in marriage from all four of her parental figures (and Ezran).Part 1 of 2.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain/Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince)
Series: fics fighting fires [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601734
Comments: 25
Kudos: 287





	permissions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rayllurn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayllurn/gifts).



This is a long time coming.

Callum thinks, if they were older, he might not have waited so long, but then it took five years just to get this far - just to secure this _peace_ \- that he’s just glad there’s an opportunity for it now. He presents to Ezran’s council as a political opportunity. A chance to secure an alliance between Katolis and the elves of the Silvergrove. A show of trust and unity between east and west.

Opeli and Ezran catch on before he even stammers his way through the first sentence, but it’s not them that he needs to convince. If he goes through with this - if he and _Rayla_ go through with this, he wants a guarantee that the lesser families and the less amenable members of the council will leave her alone. They can’t harass _him_ about anything - he’s their prince, after all - but Rayla, while she stays in the castle pretty regularly, is and will remain an easy target. 

She might be an ambassador part time, but she’s not so used to the intricacies of human politics and he will _not_ have them hounding her over this.

Still, the grin on Ez’s face is wide, and Opeli hides her obvious joy for him in the bow of her head. Callum finishes his proposal hoping he looks less awkward than he feels, and when the council says nothing (their jaws are on the floor, and it looks like they might have forgotten how to speak altogether), he turns to Ez.

“Are you -” Ez begins, giggling through his fingers. “Are you seriously asking for _permission_ to marry _Rayla_ from _me_?”

Callum shrugs, a little awkward, a little embarrassed, still, for some reason, horribly _nervous_ at the _very_ slim chance Ez might disagree. “I dunno, I mean, you _are_ my King,” he mumbles, which is, well, _true,_ and Callum is Ez’s heir presumptive and there’s _decorum_ to be kept there, no matter how much Ez pretends that there isn’t. “It just… feels like the right thing to do, I guess. What do you think?”

Ez’s grin couldn’t get wider if he tried. Then he’s laughing so hard he’s actually snorting into his fist and trying to avoid Opeli’s eye lest she scold him for being so undignified. Then he’s nodding, and he climbs off the dais with his arms open wide. “ _Yes_ , obviously,” he laughs, tugging Callum into a hug. “I can’t believe you think you need _permission._ Have you asked her yet?”

Callum’s shoulders sag, the tension in them easing just a little. “Not yet,” he admits. “I - uh - I wanted to ask her parents first.”

“ _All_ of them?”

Callum swallows, the reality of it settling heavily in his stomach. “All of them,” he says. “I wanted - I want to do this right.”

Ez cocks his head at him, his excitement only marginally dampened by his curiosity.“Is - is that a _thing_ for Moonshadow elves too?” 

“Kind of?” Callum shrugs a second time, and his gut churns in apprehension. “Ethari said something about it being an old tradition. No one really does it anymore but… I think all things considered, the sentiment is nice. I just - I hope they all say _yes._ ”

Ez snorts at him. Claps his shoulders reassuringly, his smile full of confidence and joy on his older brother’s behalf. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think you’re gonna have any problems with that.”

Ez’s confidence in him is comforting but… Callum certainly hopes so nonetheless.

x

He stops by the Silvergrove on his way back to the Storm Spire. Rayla’s been reviewing the Dragonguard this past week, which suits him fine because it means he can go about all this business at his discretion. It’s rare that they’re ever separated from each other for this long, and it’s only been, like, three days, but he misses her terribly _already_ , and more than anything, he just wants to hold her in his arms and ask her to marry him for himself but -

This is for the better, he reminds himself. He can’t ask for her parents’ permission _in front of her_ , and in any case, it would ruin the surprise. 

It’s not such an uncommon sight to see him wandering around the Silvergrove nowadays - he and Rayla visit every winter for the Solstice and every second birthday, and sometimes just for fun if they’re on their way back to Katolis and coming from the South. The elves here aren’t so wary of him anymore, which is saying a _lot_ because others still look at his human-ness with an amount of disdain or uneasiness. It _is_ odd, however, to see him wandering the Silvergrove _by himself_. 

That’s probably what all the staring is about as he climbs the wooden steps up to Ethari’s forge. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and he’s definitely nervous enough _without_ all this, but he steels himself and squares his shoulders. 

He’s not here for them.

He hesitates at the doors. The oak looms over him, vaguely threatening, the silver embellishments winking impishly at the way he fidgets and tempers his nerves. He takes a breath. Raises a fist to knock. Yelps and almost falls off the landing when the doors swing open before he has the chance.

The look on Ethari’s face is _less_ threatening when he greets him, his smile a little confused but welcoming all the same. “So the rumours are true then.”

“R-rumours?” Callum flushes and trips over his own words. “W-what rumours? I - uh - I was just passing through and - uh - I just wanted to - to say hi?”

“Very smooth. I don’t suspect a thing.” Ethari’s smile turns into something closer to a smirk, and he beckons Callum inside and shuts the doors after him. 

It’s quiet in the forge. It’s comforting to be out of view from the rest of the Silvergrove, but without the extra sound, Callum’s pulse rushes through his ears and suddenly, he’s a lot _more_ nervous than he was outside. Of all of Rayla’s parental figures, Ethari’s always been the easiest one to get along with. In part, it’s because Callum’s known him the longest, and in part, it’s their shared sensibilities and senses of humour, but even that does little to untangle the knot in Callum’s stomach.

He presses his lips together. Tries not to eye the weapons on the wall, and tries even harder not to think about how easy it would be to mark him for assassination here if _any_ of Rayla’s parents decide he’s not worthy of their daughter.

“You’re catastrophizing,” says Ethari dryly, following his gaze to the back wall. 

Callum snaps out of his stupor. “Why does it feel like you know what I’m about to ask?”

“Because I probably do.” Ethari smirks at him and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “There are only a couple of reasons you’d go out of your way to pass through the Silvergrove on your own, and only one of those accounts for the way you’re sweating all over my forge. Also you asked about it the last time you were here so I can only assume you’ve come to ask for real.”

Callum stares at him. “And… the rumours?”

Ethari shrugs at him. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” he says. “The village was beginning to wonder. Go on. Ask your question.”

There’s a pause. It stretches for longer than Callum wants to admit because he can’t decide on _how_ , exactly, to ask. The words form themselves on his tongue, clumsy collections of syllables that he’s not sure will actually make it out of his mouth. “I -” he begins stupidly. “I - uh - I wanted to - I wanted to ask - canIpleasehaveyourpermissiontomarryRayla?”

Ethari purses his lips and stares down at the hardwood. Callum thinks he wants to laugh. “Try again, Your Highness.”

Callum winces, but he takes a breath and tries for something a little slower. “I - _ahem_ \- I came to ask for your permission to - to marry Rayla.”

Ethari’s lips tilt upwards. A grin by any definition. Then he turns, takes a box from the shelf behind him, and holds it out to Callum. “You have it,” he says. 

“I -” Callum blinks. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” says Ethari, proffering the box to him. “I made these when Rayla turned eighteen. Marrying age in our culture. It was only ever a matter of time.”

“I - um.” Callum takes the box. There are horn cuffs in it - two sets of bright silver with the sigil of the uneven towers etched into the base in the palest of golds. It’s beautiful craftsmanship, and too late, Callum realizes that he’s _always_ had Ethari’s permission - he’d just been waiting for him to ask. “Thank you,” he breathes, shutting the lid carefully over the cuffs. “She - she means the world to me, and I just - _thank you._ ”

“Don’t get too excited just yet, Your Highness,” says Ethari, his lips tilting back into that smirk. “Tiadrin and Lain are at home. Runaan will be back from the healer’s hut this evening. I believe you’ve yet to ask them.”

Callum winces, and his excitement dies in a rush. He holds the box back to him. “Ah. Yeah. Shouldn’t you take these back then?”

Ethari shakes his head. “They were always made for you to give to Rayla.”

“But what if they don’t -”

“Then you’ll convince them,” says Ethari. “Won’t you?”

There’s another pause. Then Callum grins, in spite of his nerves, in spite of himself. “Yeah,” he agrees. “She’s worth that.”

“Good lad,” chuckles Ethari. “Go on now. You’ve got three other parents to ask.”

x

The actual asking of the question isn’t such a mess the second time around. Callum chalks it up to practise. Sort of. The words fit better in his mouth this time because he’s already had to ask once, but Tiadrin and Lain look at him dubiously over the top of their tea.

They’d offered one to Callum too, but his sits on the table, untouched and growing cold. He might already have Ethari’s permission, but his hands are still shaking and there’s a solid chance he might spill it all over himself and make this worse in every possible way.

“You want our _permission_ to marry Rayla?” asks Lain, eyebrows knitted together in a confused sort-of frown.

“Um. Yeah.” Callum scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s a human tradition, mostly. Ethari said it hasn’t been a requirement for Moonshadow elves in ages but I - I thought given the circumstances - um…”

“Have you asked _her_ yet?”

That’s Tiadrin, although she looks much less confused and closer to concerned. She’s right to be, Callum supposes. It’s not like this is the first elf-human union since the end of the war, but he and Rayla aren’t Common Folk, either. There are traditions, and rules, and courts, and politics to consider, and there are people on _both_ sides of the border who will be critical of their every move.

But that’s why he’s here, isn’t it? He wants to do this right. And if the world’s already watching, then let them see the lengths he’ll go to to make sure she’s happy. Let them see that this has always been more than just politics. Let them see what love is supposed to be.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. And that’s not to say we haven’t talked about it. We know it won’t be easy, being - y’know - being who we are. But I love her, and I’ve been wanting to ask her forever - it just… didn’t feel right not having your blessing first.”

The hardness on Tiadrin’s face falters, and she leans back in her chair and sips delicately at her tea. “You know you don’t actually _need_ our blessing, don’t you? I don’t know that we have any real right to give it when Rayla’s done so well without us in the first place.” 

Something like guilt flashes in her eyes as she says it, but Callum offers them both a smile and picks at his own tea at last. “You’re here for her now, aren’t you?” he says. “She’ll never admit it, but I think… it’s important to her, to know that she has your support in whatever decision she makes.”

A pause settles over the table. Lain catches Tiadrin’s eye over his mug, and Callum can practically see the silent conversation happening between them. He drums his fingers against the clay of his own mug, pretending not to watch, pretending he’s not still afraid they’ll say no - but Lain nods, in the end and holds his mug out to Callum in a kind of toast. 

“You have our blessing then,” he says. There’s moisture in his eyes - like he’s about to cry? - and he clinks his mug against Callum’s, and then against Tiadrin’s, and takes a long gulp of tea.

“Really?” asks Callum, his heart swelling with joy.

“Yes,” says Tiadrin, her hand over her chest. “I won’t lie to you, Your Highness, this… wasn’t what we pictured for her but, you know? I don’t think there’s anything better.”

“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” adds Lain, sniffling just a little.

“That’s what he’s been doing this whole time, love, I don’t think he’s about to stop.”

Callum chuckles. “Of course not,” he says. Promises. “I’ll always look after her. _Always._ Thank you.”

_Three down, one more to go._

x

Callum’s never been on Runaan’s good side, but neither has Runaan really ever been on Callum’s. He’s - admittedly - a little scared of him, and it’s not that Callum _dislikes_ him - what he did was a product of war, and while he’ll never really _forgive_ him for killing his father, Runaan is still Rayla’s mentor and father figure, and Callum can’t be at odds with him forever.

It doesn’t make this any easier though.

He spends the rest of the afternoon discussing wedding details with Tiadrin and Lain - all hypothetical, of course; mostly logistics and traditions and things Callum can discuss with Rayla once he’s actually _asked_ her (and under the assumption she says yes, which, while relatively likely, is not yet set in stone). He makes his way to Runaan and Ethari’s just after dinner (Lain had insisted he stayed for it), his fingers twitching nervously at his sides once more.

The lights are on inside, and there are two silhouettes in the window, so Callum _knows_ they’re both home, but he agonizes outside their door for what feels like hours before he has the courage to actually knock. 

He shifts uncomfortably while he waits. Transfers his weight from foot to foot as the voices come closer to the door. It’s Ethari, sounding stern, and Runaan, sounding stubborn, and when the door swings open, Callum greets them both with a sheepish smile.

“Um. Hi,” he says awkwardly. Runaan’s prosthetic arm hangs limp by his side, and Callum tries not to look at it. “I - um - I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all,” says Ethari, stepping back to let him in. “We were just talking about you. Weren’t we, love?”

Runaan bristles, a scowl set into the lines of his face. “I understand you’ve come to ask a question,” he grumbles.

“Straight to the point, I see,” mumbles Ethari, shutting the door after them.

Callum flushes and fixes his eyes on the floor. The weight of Ethari’s cuff box is heavy in his bag, and he’s done this twice now so, theoretically, this shouldn’t be _too_ hard. Runaan is part of Rayla’s family no matter what he did in the past. He’ll be family to Callum one day too, hopefully, assuming he says yes, and Rayla does too. He takes a breath, slows his heartbeat, steels himself for the debate that will follow.

“I -”

“You have my blessing,” snaps Runaan.

“What.”

“What?”

Runaan scowls at them both. “What?” he snarls. “Do you really think I’d deny my protege a lifetime of happiness out of spite? She’s earned it. She deserves nothing short of the best, and she should have my support for it. I expect to be notified when a date has been set.”

Callum stares at him, dumbstruck, his lips pressed tightly together just to keep his jaw hinged to his face. “I - um. Thank you?” His tone lilts upwards at the word _you_ like it’s a question because it sort of is. He’d expected resistance. An interrogation of some sort. A scowling, unhappy Runaan, not unlike this one, but much less compliant.

“I don’t want your thanks,” grumbles Runaan. “I want a guarantee that she’ll be happy. And I want you to know that if you hurt her, in _any_ way, _her_ blades will be the least of your worries. Have I made myself clear to you, Your Highness?”

It’s not like Callum doesn’t think he’ll follow through - he’s more than certain that he will, honestly - but right now, he’s still a little stunned. “Uh - crystal!” he manages. “But - um - you don’t have to worry about that. I just want her to be happy. And safe. And - um - I think we both know the lengths I’ll go to do that.”

Runaan narrows his eyes at him, his sneer still etched firmly onto his lips. “I suppose we do,” he grumbles. “Are we done?” he adds to Ethari.

“I suppose,” says Ethari lightly. He sounds almost amused, but Runaan pays it no mind and offers Callum a stiff bow.

“Good evening then, Your Highness,” he sneers, and he turns on his heel, and makes his way back down the hall, leaving Callum and Ethari standing in relative silence by the doorway.

There’s a beat. And then -

Callum blinks. “What just happened?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” says Ethari with a shrug. “But at least you have his blessing. I expected that to go much less smoothly. Can I offer you some Moonberry Surprise for the road, Your Highness? It’ll keep til you get back to the Storm Spire, and I’m sure Rayla would love some.”

“That sounds nice,” chuckles Callum.

“Four for four,” adds Ethari, leading him into their little kitchen. “That must be exciting. Now for the one that actually matters. Have you thought about how you’re going to ask her?”

Callum pauses. Blanches. Sinks into a kitchen chair like the realization’s only just hit him because, in all fairness, it just _has._ Under the stress of all of the asking, he hasn’t really had the _time_ to think that far ahead, and now that he has - 

“Oh,” snorts Ethari. “So, no then. Looks like you might have some thinking to do.”

“Yeah,” breathes Callum. “I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Written for @rayllurn for fics fighting fires. I overshot the word count by 1000 words but this was fun okay, so sue me.
> 
> 2) If you're wondering how Callum actually pops the question, never fear!! Y'all don't honestly think I'd spend this much time on the preamble and not follow through, right? Tumblr user @bouncyfutures had a very specific request for this (also for fics fighting fires), and it should be coming within the next couple of weeks. Hence the "part 1 of 2" thing in the summary. Call it a diptych, if you will!


End file.
